


Sherlock on the Couch

by PurpleSmurf8



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 14:49:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurpleSmurf8/pseuds/PurpleSmurf8
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock really would like John to pick a different place to read, but can't seem to convince his flat mate otherwise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sherlock on the Couch

Sherlock paced the room, his robe fluttering behind his quick steps. His hands would move from his sides to his temples when finally he threw them down in a huff of frustration, “John?”  
“Sherlock?” The Doctor answered in that tone he used when his flat mate was in one of his moods. They’d been playing this game for the past hour.  
The detective strode across the carpet, stepping over the coffee table to stand in front of John’s place on the couch.  
“Are you going to move?” Sherlock asked impatiently.  
John didn’t look up from his book. He had been quietly reading, to Sherlock’s disdain, and refused to be moved.  
“Why don’t you meditate in your chair? Or more logically, your room?”  
“I don’t want to ‘meditate’ there. I want to think about this case, and I want the couch.”  
“I’ll let your genius think this one out then.”  
Sherlock took a deep breath and stared at John. When staring didn’t work he perched himself on the arm of the couch, fingertips together, continuing to bore into the man. “You are relentless.”  
“And you need to give up.”  
He smirked, “You do know who you’re talking to.”  
“Right. A detective that can’t see the many clues that I will not be moved for your absurd need of this specific spot in the entire flat.”  
“Don’t you know the term sharing, John?”  
“That’s the thing about couches, there’s room for more than one.”  
“I can’t sit like that. I need space.”  
“Then I can’t—“  
“Won’t.”  
“Won’t help you.”  
Sherlock paused, “What if I took it by force?”  
John looked up from his book at this statement with a raised brow, “Would you?”  
“Possibly.”  
There was as silence for a moment where the two held the other’s gaze, then John turned back to his book.  
Sherlock smirked once John had turned away. The detective sprang up and quickly tucked himself under the crook of John’s shoulder while grabbing his arm, lifting him up.  
“Sherlock! What the devil are you—this is ridiculous!” However the ex-soldier was surprised, he countered the other by forcing his free arm around Sherlock’s and pinning it back.  
The two wobbled for a moment before Sherlock was forced to let go of John.  
John wasn’t done. No, if Sherlock wanted to play this game he would not let him win.  
Before Sherlock had fully stood; figuring it was all well and done, John took hold of the man, twisting his arm behind his back and forcing him to the ground.  
“Well played.” He mumbled.  
“You started this Sherlock.” John said, holding a firm grip, but only enough to constrain the frustrating man.  
There was a challenge in both their eyes and Sherlock made to spring to his feet.  
John was quicker however and moved from his kneeling position and tripped Sherlock’s legs out from under him. Sherlock was on his back and John sat above him, legs pinning the others down and Sherlock’s hands pinned above his head.  
Sherlock lifted his head in assessment to his new position and dropped it back with a flustered sigh.  
“Give up?” John asked, slightly out of breath.  
Sherlock tilted his head toward John and looked him in the eye. “Oh, I don’t know about that.” He stated thoughtfully.  
“You may have genius, but now I have the upper hand.”  
Sherlock didn’t answer for a moment, then smirked again.  
“What?”  
“I do wonder at the expression of Mrs. Hudson should she come up those stairs.”  
John looked down at the two of them. He was sitting on top of the detective. He recovered his thoughts however and shook his head. “No, no that will not work on me. Do not turn this situation around. I see what you’re doing.”  
Sherlock raised a brow, “Are you sure?”  
Actually, John was not quite sure at this point, but he was determined to not let Sherlock win.  
“Yes. Now, do you give up, or do we have to sit stale-mate in this ridiculous game?”  
“Oh, I wouldn’t call it a stale-mate.”  
John looked at his flat-mate, racking his brain at the turn the last few minutes had taken. “Fine, fine,” John said defiantly, shifting his weight and flexing his grip on Sherlock’s wrists.  
Sherlock repressed a laugh, but John saw the smugly amused look in his eyes.  
He held back the urge to reciprocate that stupid look that always seemed to make John join in Sherlock’s amusement.  
The two sat still for a good few mintues. Sherlock had reverted to closing his eyes, while John tapped one of his fingers absent mindedly in impatience on Sherlock’s wrist; glancing around at anything but the man in front of him. He could hear the ticking of the clock on the mantel and had had enough. “This is pointless.”  
“If it is pointless, why do you not let me up?” Sherlock asked, not bothering to open his eyes.  
John cursed silently, because he knew this was a little experiment of Sherlock’s, whether it had started out as one or not. And he would not give in.  
Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at the flustered doctor and gave a laugh that vibrated in his chest.  
“It’s—it’s not—you’re a prat you know that?” John couldn’t help but return a laughing grin.  
“Alright John, I surrender, you can let me up.”  
John hesitated a moment; slightly surprised, but let go of his grip and stood up, holding his hand out. Sherlock took it then straightened his robe.  
“So, when did this little scene become one of your experiments?”  
Sherlock quirked up a smirk and glanced at John, both in amusement and odd delight that John had come to this assumption. “One can only guess.” He said surely and walked over to the couch, picked up John’s discarded book, and sat down, stretching his long legs out on the coffee table.  
John didn’t move, watching Sherlock for a moment, puzzled.  
“Aren’t you going to continue your reading, John?”


End file.
